The Power of Four
by Ship's Cat
Summary: Four young genius' meet at summer camp. Future trouble magnets find something mysterious! A kid fic and crossover with Stargate SG1, Numb3rs, and Criminal Minds. They are back! Are they older and wiser? Less prone to trouble? No.
1. Chapter 1

THE POWER OF FOUR

by

Gail Gardner

"Sissies"

"Nerds"

"Geeks"

"Momma's boys"

"Overinflated egotists"

"Underdeveloped cavemen"

"Two decimal points shy of zero"

"Anthropophagist"

The Onward and Upward Camp for children was the epitome of the ideal summer camp. It's premises were rustic, but modern. The staff was well-trained, well-groomed multi-talented in the outdoor skills and in courting the fragile psyche's of the children attending. Most of the attendee's came from well-off, if not rich families. At $5000 for a two week session, not surprising.

However, in the name of equality, a better learning environment, the Camp also took in a smattering of charity cases. Called quite euphemistically in the four color brochure "Public Service". One year it was four intercity children, another, five Russians, three almost juvenile deliquents from a youth aid organization (their counsellor was wisely an ex-marine and any trouble they could have caused was nipped in the bud early).

This year it was to be young genius'. Children who were thrust early into the higher academic world of adults and had no time or cause to be integrated into the fun and play of being a child. It would be a perfect thing to point out to visiting parents and if the one of them got famous later why just how nice to explain that the current Nobel Prize winner was an alumni of the Onward and Upward program!

Blair shifted his heavy backpack from his shoulder to the ground in front of him. What was Naomi thinking of, sending him to this artificial environment? Probably had to do with her latest, Thad, who thought him just a little too weird.

"Give the boy a chance to interact with children his own age, to play instead of having his nose in a book all the time. A great opportunity!" Thad had waxed loquaciously.

"You go then." Blair had muttered rebelliously. At the age of thirteen and four months, he certainly knew what he wanted to do and what he wanted.

Unfortunately, Naomi was in the early stages of her enrapturement of everthing Thad (Blair figured his name was Chad, but he lisped it as Thad) and tired of Blair's burgeoning teen-age angst.

"Think of it as an expedition to meet a new tribe of people." Naomi pushed the right button.

"Please sweetie. Then Thad and I can go to the retreat in New Mexico and I won't worry about you." Naomi pushed the guilt button and Blair caved in. So, here he was in the middle of Colorado at Camp Runamuck.

The sleek mini bus ferrying the campers from the nearest town was unloading behind him. Many of the children were yelling and greeting each other with familiarity. Blair found himself standing in a small knot of milling first timers.

He immediately began cataloging them in his mind. The little blonde pig-tailed girl with pink sequined backpack (how inpractical) and matching pink sneakers (how long would they stay pink?) was immediately dismissed. Anyway she was swept up by three clones and carried off in a sea of giggles. Two very young boys were swept away by a motherly looking lady before they could burst into tears. Imagine crying, because you were away from home. Blair snorted in disgust.

Behind him he heard a mild explitive in...Arabic?

A boy, about his age, with dusty blond hair falling over his glasses was struggling to lift his backpack, it was obviously bulging with books.

"Salaam aleicham" Blair said courteously. The boy didn't look like he came from an Arabic speaking country, but it didn't hurt to be polite.

"Aleicham salaam" the boy answered automatically. "Your accent is Egyptian?"

"I spent three months there when I was just a kid." Blair reached down to help him with the backpack. "Blair Sandburg"

"Daniel Jackson"

"If we didn't have Arabic numerals we would be doing mathematics in Roman numerals which would make for clumsy equations, no finesse." A young boy with a riot of dark curls just like Blairs spoke up.

"Are you brothers?" Daniel asked.

"Not that I know of." Blair said.

"I've got an older brother, he's enough. I'm Charles Eppes. Uh Charlie." He remembered his mother and father urging him to develop some 'social skills'. Mingle with kids his age. He smiled or at least showed teeth.

Daniel's dark mood brightened fractionally. His social worker had pushed him into this 'vacation'. Actually, it was an excuse to get him switched to a new foster home with little or no fuss. Daniel had learned early on not to fuss with the social worker. He sighed heavily.

"We few, we_ happy_ few, we band of brothers." The inflection on happy was sour. The speaker was so thin, he made the other boys look healthy and robust. Like Daniel he had a mop of dirty blond hair and glasses.

"You're his brother?" Blair pointed between the two, though the newcomer was a good two inches taller than any of them.

"No. No brothers. No family, I mean I have a mother." He seem to gaze around him curiously as if just realizing he was on planet earth.

"Me too." Blair said blithely. "Just me and Naomi. I'm Blair." He stuck out a hand.

"Um Spencer, Spencer Reid." the young man eyed the hand if it were a dead fish.

"You know in some cultures the shaking of hands is considered bad luck." Daniel tried to fill in the nervous silence.

The four eyed each other critically, taking in neat but unexpensive clothing, the air of subdued woe.

"Hel-LO Campers!!" A very energetic buff man was waving enthusiastically at them as he approached at a brisk trot.

Daniel moaned something in Latin that had to do with pigs in graveyards.

"Point zero, null." Charlie whined.

Spencer looked around for escape.

"We are doomed." Blair intoned and the four boys moved instinctively closer to each other for mutual protection.

Part 2

Their counsellor, Anders, was a hearty phys-ed major who figured good healthy excercise would make happy campers. None of the four boys were against the out-of-doors per se, but the fact that Anders had locked up their books for the duration of the camp was painful. Daniel's allergies became more virulent, Blair suddenly decided he was a vegetarian, Charlie used any and all sharp implements and flat surfaces to scrape mathematical formulas and Spencer became more distant.

Blair had learned early on in his life to make friends, even with the most difficult of people that he and Naomi had come across in their travels. However, to meet with someone his own age who could out think him or out talk him was a bit hard to get used to.

Daniel was okay, but soon lost interest when he realized how limited Blair's grasp of Arabic was. Charlie was fun to be with if he wasn't figuring out some mathematical formula for how many needles each kind of fir tree had, which meant he wasn't fun most of the time. Spencer was distant until he got used to the other boys then he couldn't be shut up about the people around them without revealing too much about himself.

Campers were expected to be in bed by 10:00 pm, and asleep not long afterwards. A full day's schedule to swimming, sports, handicrafts, and stodgy macaroni casserole was supposed to work its magic.

The four young genius' might be physically wiped, but their inquiring minds deprived of their favorite fuel, books, whirred and clicked long past bedtime.

"I'm bored." Charlie yawned.

Blair absentmindedly picked at a scab on his elbow. "What do we have on for tomorrow?"

"Canoeing or woodcraft. We get wet or we carve a stick into a toothpick." Spencer grunted.

"The old indian gravesite isn't until next week." Daniel sighed. As with most camp, there was the ubiquitous 'haunted' place. Rumors and horror stories were passed down from camper to camper and it was kept as a 'special treat' for them. A number of counsellors dressed in costume and liberally dusted with flour would pounce out of the bushes at intervals screaming war chants and brandishing rubber hatchets. It was a big number at the camp and scared most of the campers silly - for about two minutes.

"Actually," Blair said thoughtfully. "I think the indians of this area didn't bury their dead. They left the bodies on platforms to wither and dry and then be transported to the next world.

"Almost like natural mummification." Daniel added.

"That assumes then, that the proposed trip next week has to be planned in advance which means..." Spencer trailed off meaningfully. He learned quickly that his cabin mates were just as quick off the mark as he was.

"A trap. A bogus opportunity." Daniel groused.

"Why don't we go there ourselves?" Blair asked suddenly. "There must have been something behind the idea in the first place."

"It is probably just made up, just like the 'bears' in the woods." Spencer put quotation marks with his fingers around the word bears. A ruse if he ever heard one to keep the kids close to camp.

"We could have an expedition. Do our own exploring." Daniel's voice brightened.

"I could map out the area. We could make measurements." Charlie's fingers twitched for a pencil and paper, compass and ruler, plumb bob, and etc.

"Dig for real artifacts." Blair enthused.

"Yeah!" was the unified response.

"You guys get to sleep!" Anders hollered from his sectioned-off corner of the cabin sleepily.

"Yessir!" They chorused back and the four boys bounced over to Spence's bed for a whispered huddle and planning session for The Adventure.

Part 3

Blair and Daniel were given the job of collecting the necessary tools for digging up artifacts. They liberated a couple of trowels from the gardeners shed, a collapsible shovel from the fire fighting post, and several brushes from the arts and crafts workshop.

Spencer was to find out the exact location of the so-called Indian Burial ground from the older campers. He played down the bruise on his arm from the sucker punch, but basked in his campmates awe of his powers of persuasion. He was cool.

Charlie scrounged vital supplies, like a map, compass, pencils, string and paper. He was given the provinder job since his mother had just sent him a box of cookies and fudge. He felt a little guilty since he was the only one with a normal family. Spencer's mother wrote him letters. Blair's mom was somewhere where post didn't come or go and Daniel was an orphan with no one. None of them even had a big brother who was a hero like Don. Don played baseball, Don protected him from bullies at school. Don who taught him to spit, and ride a bike with no hands.

Spencer and Blair, who were the most persuasive of the unholy quartet, worked out their cover story for Anders to fool him into thinking they were elsewhere when actually they were ...elsewhere, just not where he expected them to be. Spencer devised the plot and Blair delivered it.

"Obfuscation." Spencer declared stoutly defending his convoluted nest of not-so-truths to the counsellor.

"Obfuscation."Blair rolled the word around his tongue. " Nice word. I like the way you think Dr. Reid."

Spencer smiled broadly, lighting up his thin face. "My pleasure, Dr. Sandburg. Shall we see if Dr. Eppes and Dr.Jackson are ready?"

Anders delivered the boys to the docks for swimming the next morning. Charlie, being the smallest and lightest of the boys suddenly developed a sprained ankle which the necessitated the four of them going to visit the camp nurse. Solidarity between camp mates was a sign of positive influence so, the harried swim counsellor (Spencer had noticed his inability to remember a camper's name) gave them permission to carry off their 'wounded' member in a group. Once out of sight, Charlie was dropped.

"Hey, man. No more cookies for you, you weigh a ton!" Blair exclaimed. He had the heavy torso, while Spencer and Daniel had a leg each.

"They're my cookies." Charlie protested rubbing his butt.

"Our cookies." Spencer reminded him. "The expedition's cookies."

"Chocolate chip, with 7. 45 chips per cookie." Charlie said dreamily. "My mom makes them with two bags of chips once I pointed out that one bag of chips only allows for 3.23 chips per cookie which is only a ratio of 23 of chocolate per cookie which..."

"Isn't enough." the other three boys chorused and helped pull their friend to his feet. Backpacks which had been cleverly hidden earlier were retrieved and the four boys set out on their Adventure. Since he was the most travelled of the four, Blair was given the map and compass.

Over the seasons of camp, the trail to the 'Haunted Indian Burial Ground' had been festooned with various props such as grinning skulls, oversized arrowheads, and decorated dreamcatchers. So, the trail was well marked and the map and compass rather superfulous.

The skulls proved to be plaster of paris, the arrowheads made of plastic and the dreamcatchers, fodder for bird's nests. 'Bloody handprints' strategically placed on rocks and trees were examined and pronounced to be red poster paint.

"These people have no imagination." Daniel scoffed. "The evidence is transparent."

"This wouldn't even fool an eight-year-old." Spencer derided from his lofty position of 11½ years.

The site, while it could look spooky and foreboding under low light conditions was quickly perused and discarded as anything interesting. They scratched their names (written in cuneform - Daniel's idea) on a large rock. Blair was upset over the amount of empty coke cans, candy wrappers and other unbiodegradable trash left behind.

"So, where do we dig?" Spencer hefted the folding shovel.

"Excavate." Daniel looked around carefully.

"We should look for anomolies." Charlie's brow wrinkled in thought his brain calculating at lightning speed the number of trees and bushes in the area. "Look at that area over there. Unlike the surrounding trees, there is very sparse undergrowth."

"Which would make us assume that something disturbed the growth, or prevented the growth from happening." Blair mused.

The boys set to work in a methodical manner that would have warmed the cockles of any archeological dig's leader. Charlie and Blair measured and set out grid lines with the string while Spencer started to take notes. Daniel, as the acknowledged leader of the dig paced around the site, picking up rocks and tapping them with the trowel and stacking them into neat piles according to size and interest.

People who were kind would call these budding young genius' inquisitive, or curious, those who would know them later in life would call them trouble magnets, so it was no wonder that after a short time of digging they made a FIND.

Charlie found the first bone. "Hey, someone had a really big pork chop, or something." He was careful to brush around the bone with a number five brush that still had traces of blue and green paint around the base of the bristles.

"Uh uh. That's no pig bone." Spencer leaned over from his square to add his brush to his efforts. It's a tibia. Ah, um a human tibia."

"How do you know?" Charlie said wrinkling his nose.

"I read Gray's Anatomy when I was five."

The boys nodded. They knew if Spencer said he'd read something then he remembered rightly. It was a refreshing change for the brilliant young boy, as he was always being challenged by others and told he couldn't be right.

"If we go back to camp and tell them about a body being here, they'll just take it away from us." Daniel said crossing his arms in front of himself defensively. They were always taking away things from him.

Blair and Charlie looked a bit doubtful.

"Do you think it's American Indian?" Charlie asked.

"There would be signs to look for, like skeletal structure," Blair mused.

"The amount of decay of the bones could give a probable age." Daniel added.

"We need more data. The more data and facts we have then it is easier to come to some conclusion." Charlie added in and set to vigourously brushing away the dirt around the bone.

Some kids would have debated the issue for a while. Maybe even some squabbled over who did what and how. Most would have run screaming back to camp that they had found a BODY - A DEAD BODY IN THE WOODS. But as the four boys were in the top 1 group of intelligence they set out without too much fuss to unearth the bones of the poor soul who was buried in an unmarked grave in the woods. They took time to eat the cookies and demolish the fudge, to confer with Spencer's notes and get themselves sunburned.

They managed by late afternoon to uncover most of the bones of the lower torso.

"We need to have the skull." Daniel said and wheezed. He had just huffed into his inhaler not ten minutes ago and already he could feel the tightness building up again in his chest.

"Are you okay?" Blair looked at his friend carefully.

Daniel flapped his hand. "I'm fine."

"You look like road kill." Spencer said crouching over the remains. "Your eyes are red and squinchy."

"You're breathing like my brother Don when he reads his girly magazines." Charlie added helpfully.

"Charlie!" They rest yelled at him and he was whapped with hats.

"Well he does, and you do." The put on youngster protested.

"Once we quit we'll never get to come back." Daniel protested. "They'll call in experts and we'll never know who this is or what happened to them. We'll never know." He fumbled in his pocket for the inhaler and turned around trying to hide his tears of sudden anger.

"Not if we play this right." Blair said hopping from one foot to another.

"Finders keepers?" Charlie ventured.

"No, we have to convince them that we are the experts, and we are." Spencer said with growing confidence. "They are going to want our notes and experience. So, we make a deal that we can join the effort."

"Look, this will probably just get you all in trouble." Daniel turned back towards the other three. "We are already late for lunch and the camp will probably chuck us out."

"Man, you are too gloomy." Blair slung an arm around Daniel. "We are friends, fellow explorers. We don't run out when the canoe tips, or the cannibals attack."

"Trouble is when a burly tenth grader doesn't like your smart face." Spencer piped up and put his arm around Blair, a rather tentative move for him.

"Trouble is when your brother catches you reading his girly magazines." Charlie gave a wide grin and waggled his dark eyebrows.

Part 4

It was four dirty, tired, sunburnt, boys that drug themselves back to the camp just in time for dinner. Anders, who had been looking for them since after lunch was relieved to find them more or less intact. He read them a lecture on following the set program and personally supervised their showers and took away their dessert for the evening meal. The shower supervision was highly embarrassing, but the loss of dessert wasn't felt as they were bloated on Charlie's cookies.

They laid low the next day, as Anders was watching them closely. During the crafts period while they were making craftsy things out of leather, they spent an enjoyable time bouncing around theories about the origin of the body and 'what did him in' in the way that most boys their age would talk about sports statistics and their favorite music track on a new album.

"Maybe he was a Sentinel for his tribe. Richard Burton," began Blair hesitantly.

"The explorer, not the actor." Daniel added helpfully.

"I knew that." Spenser snorted.

"Actor? Explorer?" Charlie asked innocently. If it didn't have to do with math, Charlie was a little lost, but he was learning from the others.

"He wrote about Sentinels, they had enhanced senses, could look out for the tribe, warn them of danger, track game, and smell the weather. Some day..." Blair paused and looked up at the sky. "Someday I'm gonna find a Sentinel and learn about him."

"I look forwards to reading it." Spencer said solemnly. "But if he had such good senses, why is he buried in an unmarked shallow grave?"

"There was no time to bury him properly." Charlie added.

"There were no teethmarks on the bones, so we can probably rule out death by wildlife." Daniel mused scuffing the toe of his tennis shoe in the dust.

The boys were silent for a moment their youthful brains almost grinding audibly.

"I think..." Blair began slowly and was interrupted by a call from Anders.

"Come on boys! We're going to practice archery, then we have to present a skit for the campfire tonight. I'm sure we can come up with something really neat!" Four sets of eyes blinked at him, then Charlie grinned. "Daniel knows some really neat stories about Egypt and their Gods." The fact that the stories were all bloodthirsty and ended badly struck a chord with the boys. They would send their fellow campers to bed after the campfire scared spitless and looking under their cots carefully.

"Or Spencer has some neat stuff about abnormal psychology. Makes you look at people a whole different way." Daniel added helpfully.

"No, no. I think Charlie should explain differential equations." Blair smiled.

"Uh, how about a funny version of Little Red Riding Hood?" Anders offered hopefully. "Or lead everyone in a rousing Row, Row, Row Your Boat?"

These offerings were met with groans and protestations. In the end, they did the Three Billy Goats Gruff in Marseilles dockyard French (where Blair picked up the language is probably a story in itself) which the boys thought was hilarious, but went way over the heads of anyone, even those professing to speak French. It was full of coarse metaphors and slang and references to the counsellors that to the uninitiated were untranslatable. Spencer had no problem remembering his lines and when Charlie had learned to think of his part (he was the Middle Billy Goat) as a mathematical formula he was able to swear in a credible French patois. His accent remained excretiable, according to Daniel, but as they had no dockyard workers nearby, his performance was passable.

The next day, they were more than ready to sneak off to their secret dig. The official visit to the Indian gravesite was only three days away and they wanted to have the whole body dug up by then.

All four boys had a maturity and intellect way beyond their years. Daniel and Spencer were also pushed by circumstances into an early responsibility by tragic circumstances. Blair had more experience and travel than many adults have in their lifetimes. Only Charlie was protected by a complete family, but even he was set apart by his world of numbers. Yet, they were kids. The consequences of their actions or the rightness of their doings wasn't thought of, they were merely feeding their voracious curiosity.

They spent a comfortable morning digging and scraping in the dirt. They took turns running back to the camp to appear at activities and to misdirect Anders and the other counsellors to look for them elsewheres. They were 'swimming', 'exploring', 'doing crafts', and a lot of time in the outhouse or taking showers.

Spencer found the skull. Of the four boys, he was the most brilliant, and the most fragile. His mind worked with lightning speed gathering facts around the site and collating them into a complete picture. These skills would make him some years later an excellent profiler. At this time, it scared him. It scared him badly.

The skull lay in fragments, almost shattered like a crystal goblet. The four boys crowded around and were quiet.

"It's busted." Charlie said sorrowfully. He had visions of a cool souvenir to bring back from camp, much better than a lumpy leather wallet made in crafts.

"Skulls don't bust easily." Blair said slowly.

Spencer's long thin fingers delicately lifted out a bright shiny lump from the eye socket.

"That's a bullet." Daniel said and fumbled for his inhaler.

"It's murder. We have uncovered a murder." Spencer's voice shook.

"We can't report it." Blair said slowly. He was worried. The last time he and Naomi met with the pigs they had tried to take him away from his mother.

"It's murder." Spencer repeated, his voice tighter. If the authorities came, they would send for his mother and she couldn't come. They would see how sick she was and separate them.

"Group home." Daniel's voice was up an octave after he had a strong huff on his inhalor. "I'll ...I'll be buried in a group home." His foster families hadn't been the greatest, but he knew from experience that a group home was a lot worse.

"Dad always says to call the police..." Charlie began again earnestly, but stopped when he saw the bleak look on the other three boys faces.

"No pigs." Blair said firmly.

"We need to hide this." Daniel waved a hand at the neat dig which now looked like a charnal place for his life.

"But, we have to let them know that someone is killed out here!" Charlie protested.

"You're safe, you have a family to protect you." Blair said softly. "I have to look out for Naomi. Daniel's on his own and Spencer only has his sick mom. You gotta do this for us, Charlie. We are friends aren't we?"

Charlie looked down. They were his friends, guys his age who didn't laugh at him, or tease him. Guys who were smart like he was. Being called a friend was a lot better than being called a weirdo or geek.

"Okay, but we gotta bury him proper." Charlie insisted.

Blair nodded. He sacrificed one of his shirts to pile the bones on. Unlike the other kids who gloried in a mere t-shirt, Blair dressed in layers. They found a large rotting tree some distance off the beaten track and carefully interred the bones.

"We had best say something, so his spirit will be at rest." Daniel said.

"He needs some good karma." Blair added.

"I remember how a mitzvah goes. We say it every year for Grandpa." Charlie volunteered.

The unknown victim of a murder was finally put to rest with an ancient Sumerian verse, a Buddist chant, a hebrew prayer, and a verse from the Bible. Each of the four then placed a large rock on top of the tree to represent themselves. Then the enormity hit them.

Spencer threw up. Charlie sniffled. Daniel began to wheeze. Blair blinked at the afternoon sun, a bad headache making his stomach roil. He swallowed hard.

The four boys literally crawled back into the camp half carrying one another. The first adult that met them took them immediately to the camp nurse.

"What happened? You all look terrible!" Anders came running into the little infirmary.

"We, we were just exploring the woods." Blair said hastily.

Charlie looked awfully white and was biting his lip. "We saw a b-b..."

"Bear!" Blair shouted. Spenser and Daniel looked relieved and then looked meaningfully at Charlie.

"Is that right? You saw a bear?" Anders said anxiously.

Three of the boys nodded vigourously, though Blair thought his head would roll off his shoulders with the movement.

Charlie's lips twitched and then he took a deep breath. "Yes, we saw a bear. It was a big bear!"

"Where did you see it?" Anders was worried. A bear hadn't been seen around the camp in over a decade, but they were out there.

"By the lake..."

"To the west of the archery range.."

"About two miles away..."

"A BIG bear..."

The four fingers pointing in slightly different directions wavered and finally settled on a general direction opposite to the Indian Burial Ground, and if anyone had thought about it at that time, opposite from the direction they arrived at the camp.

Anders rose the alarm to the head counsellor and the campers were all brought in closer to the cabins and the main buildings. The four boys became instant heroes. Anders was glad that they took the noise and alarm modestly, and despite looking rather green, were unhurt.

That night they were very quiet in their cabin.

"Thanks Charlie." Daniel finally whispered.

"S'okay." The young mathematician said sitting up in his sleeping bag. "We're like me and Don. Brothers y'know, gotta stick together even if you don't agree with what you're doing."

"You are a smart kid Charles Eppes." Blair said admiringly.

Charlie shivered in delight. He had been called genius, wizard, and other accolades since he was three, but this compliment pleased him best.

"Here. You can keep this." Spencer tossed something onto Charlie's bed.

Charlie picked up the small mis-shapen piece of metal. "The bullet?"

"Keep it, someday it may be important."

Blair felt a shiver go up his spine, as if there was something important in Spencer's words. But someday could possibly never come and the body in the woods would remain an unsolved mystery.

Over ten years later...


	2. Chapter 2

"Hello, Margaret! So, when is the flight? "

"Well, that's what I am calling about."

"Are you all right? Not...sick are you?"

"Alan Eppes, I am fit as a fiddle. Just because I had a hysterectomy does not mean I'm going to keel over."

"No, of course not, I just - worry. It's my job to worry."

"And you do it so well." Margaret Eppes said dryly. "Charley got a going away present from one of his professors, a Dr. Nash."

"Something nice?"

"Oh yes, it was a blackboard on which Dr. Nash wrote his equations of game theory and got a Nobel Prize in 1995."

"Wow, wait, this blackboard, how big is it?" Alan Eppes said skeptically.

Margaret Eppes gave a big sigh. "Too big for airplane, too expensive to ship, and too valuable to Charlie to leave behind. I think we can tie it to the roof of the station wagon and drive home."

"ALL The Way from Jersey? "

"It's important to Charlie. He says he thinks better when writing on a blackboard."

Alan Eppes gave a large sigh. "You spoil the boy." he said in capitulation.

"Oh, Alan, if only we could keep him a boy. There he was with all those old men, telling them things they took years to understand. He lost so much of his childhood!" She sniffed audibly.

"Margie, Margie, shh, shh." Her husband soothed her. "We knew there would be sacrifices for all of us, and especially for Charlie. If," he added, "you want to drive across country with your son and a blackboard then do it. Take your time, see some sights. What is that place in Kansas with the world's largest ball of twine? Go there. Have fun, make sure Charlie has fun."

"Alan, you are the best father and husband in the world!"

"Of course I am. Now, drive careful."

"I will dear, I love you!"

"Love you too!"

The Greyhound bus stopped in a swirl of dust at what seemed to be the middle of nowhere.

"Apache Springs!" The driver called out to the half-empty bus. A young man with long blonde hair and glasses got up from his seat and exited the bus. Before he could swing his backpack up on his shoulder the bus was already leaving. The only sign of civilization was a wooden bench and the remains of a car rusting by the side of the road. A cloud of dust from a dirt road indicated that his ride was coming.

Dr. Daniel Jackson, PhD in Archeology, PhD in Linguistics, and 19 year-old stood waiting to meet a colleague, and a friend.

The dust cloud came to a halt, revealing an old pick-up truck that was once green, but now wore the permanent red dust of the desert region of Arizona. Daniel grinned, and then sombered, what if Blair Sandburg didn't recognize him? He raised a hand in greeting as the young man hopped out of the cab of the truck and bounced over to greet him.

"Daniel? Way cool!" Daniel found himself pulled into an enthusiastic hug which he found himself returning in relief.

The two young men grinned and then shook hands.

"I read your article..." Both began at once as they were getting into the truck.

A silence set over them as Blair coaxed the truck into starting.

"Did you..." Blair began.

"Like it?" Daniel finished. They both glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes and then burst out laughing together.

"Oh yeah!" Blair began and started bouncing even before the rutted road would do the bouncing for them. "The written evidence was quite clear in my mind. To compare hieroglyphs to historical accounts in other countries was a piece of genius."

"You found over fifty subjects with two heightened senses! That is an amazing piece of research!" Daniel began to wax enthusiastically.

The two began to yell questions and answers at each other as they jounced and bounced down the road towards their destination. When Blair would take his hands off the wheel to illustrate a point with his hands, Daniel would take over the steering. By the time they reached the Indian reservation where Blair was doing research they were trading anthropologist and archeologist jokes which would have surprised many of their colleagues since they were known to be extremely focused and serious about their work, or at least that was the role they were creating.

Blair told this one which had Daniel punching him on the arm for punning.

_A skeptical anthropologist was cataloging South American folk remedies with the assistance of a tribal brujo who indicated that the leaves of a particular fern were a sure cure for any case of constipation. When the anthropologist expressed his doubts, the brujo looked him in the eye and said, "Let me tell you, with fronds like these, who needs enemas?"_

Daniel countered with this one which had both boys, (for at heart they were still boys), gasping for breath and pounding on the dashboard of the truck in glee.

_A week or so ago several British newspapers ran a story about _

_the oldest joke in world, which was found by The British Museum's _

_Egyptology department on a slip of papyrus. It was told in 2600 BC _

_about the pharaoh Sneferu by his chief magician Djadjamankh._

_How do you entertain a bored pharaoh?_

_You sail a boatload of young women dressed only in fishing nets _

_down the Nile and urge the pharaoh to go catch a fish._

Daniel then told the joke again in Arabic, which sent them both howling with laughter, as this was even funnier. (Some things just get lost in translation.) This degraded into several smutty jokes told in various languages including one in sign that almost crashed the truck.

Daniel held the steering wheel while Blair wiped his eyes with a bright colored handkerchief.

"Hey, Daniel, umm have you ever visited a native American village before?"

"Would it be any different than Egypt?" Daniel asked and wiped his own eyes and face with Blair's handkerchief.

"Well, yeah. Here you don't know the language. Or at least in your case, not right away. It took me ages to be accepted and only because the local medicine man saw I wasn't there to exploit them or publish their tribal secrets. Like I said in the letter to you man, I think the symbols the chief mentioned might have bearing on your research, I mean way cool if you found Phoenician or Linear 1 glyphs!" Blair then continued, "Listen, Daniel, you have to appear non-threatening, but at the same time you have to show firmness of purpose. You are not there to be pushed around." Blair peered through the dusty windshield and began to slow down as trailers, houses, and other signs of civilization could be seen.

"When you get out of the truck - show your hands and assure them that you coming not to change their lives, but to learn about theirs. Show curiosity, but be cautious. And eat anything that is put in front of you."

"I'm not exactly a novice," Daniel snorted, but was thankful for the advice. Daniel had not travelled as extensively as Blair, and although he was born in Egypt, and had gone back there for some post-doctrate work, he'd not had that much opportunity to see new places. When Blair had written him, he'd jumped at the chance, not only for research purposes, but to see new places and people and meet up again with someone he'd been friends with one long summer ago.

Charlie very happily mapped out their itinerary taking them at what at seemed was a meandering loop through North Carolina, Kentucky, Arkansas, Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona to have a look at the Grand Canyon which Margaret was looking forwards to seeing. He'd calculated fuel costs and rest stops and took them on several scenic routes instead of the main highways. It was a bit of a wandering itinerary and she was looking forwards to it.

If Margaret Eppes had known of her son's secondary reason for the whole road trip idea, she maybe wouldn't have been so eager to set out. She did notice that all the rest stops and overnights were at towns she'd never heard of and some were off the main highways, but not too far off. The hotels were comfortable, but not overpriced. She should have guessed from the list of names like Sylacauga, Alabama; Blowing Rock, North Carolina; Gurdon, Arkansas; Cave City, Kentucky; and Marfa, Texas.

Everyone of the towns had a 'mystery site' which Charlie was bound and determined to debunk. In their first year at Princeton, Charlie had gone through a phase where he didn't want to be seen in public with his mother. Luckily, he grew out of it, but now Margaret had a feeling she didn't want to be seen in public with her son, who quite loudly measured, reputed, and embarrassed her soundly at one tourist attraction after another.

The rest of the trip, Charlie was more than human, he made her put her feet up at the hotel and would serve her tea, or a cold drink and tell her cheerfully how many miles they had travelled and the mean averages of fuel consumption, time, and other minutiae which delighted his heart, and so delighted his mother. If it wasn't for the mystery sites and the low ache in her back from too much driving, it would be the perfect road trip.

Daniel and Blair sat stiffly in the dainty rococo chairs of the village shaman. She had served them tea in delicate porcelain cups and finger sandwiches reposed on a plate between them. The lady of the house was permed and dressed in a simple, but elegant looking trouser suit. She looked like any suburban housewife except for her eyes which were deep, dark pools in her brown face.

"Eat up boys!" she said lightly. "We have a saying in our family, 'A growing boy is like having a wolf in his belly."

"Would that be an Apache adage, ma'am?" Daniel asked politely and nibbled at the crustless bit of bread and mystery filling. The whole tray wouldn't fill up a bird satisfactorily.

She laughed lightly, "Oh my no! That would be from my Russian grandmother's side of the family. There has been a watering down of the Indian race in the past generations. There are very few true-blooded among us." She paused to take a delicate sip out of her cup and to pat her hair lightly. She put the cup down and then fixed them with a stare that was penetrating. "That is why we look more to those of the true spirit, rather than of blood. You two are brothers, and you will meet others that will not be of your blood, but will be of the same spirit. Hold them close, and keep them safe and you will be protected as well. Now, run along with you and tell JP to take you out to the Looking Rock."

They politely stood up, realizing they had been summarily dismissed. She walked them to the door and before they got up to the white picket fence, they could hear the whine of a vacuum cleaner sucking up the crumbs they had left on the carpet.

"Do you think she wanted us to cut our fingers and mix our blood together?" Blair said half-seriously.

"On her white rug?" Daniel said. "Not a chance."

JP was the epitome of native American, stoic, dressed like a cowboy, and communicated in monosyllabic grunts. When apprised of the errand the shaman had sent him on he made the boys pay for filling up his car with gas and buying three bags of Cheetos and a six pack of root beer.

"Appeasin' the spirits." He grunted and with a clash of gears they drove off into the desert.

Spencer Reed carefully chained up his bicycle at the employee's entrance to the Montecito Hotel on The Strip in Las Vegas.

He'd been working at the casino for almost 7 years now. A schoolmate's father with a gambling problem had counted on Spencer at the age of 12 to dig him out of a financial hole with some unsavory characters. Spencer had been flattered at the attention and the possibility of earning money.

Ed Deline, ex-Secret Service, and head of security had busted up the poker game being held in the Montecito. Even though Spencer refused to talk, it hadn't taken Deline very long to find out his name and circumstances. He offered Spencer something he couldn't refuse, an honest way to make money that would keep him and his mother afloat. Until he was 16 and able to work legit, the Montecito made sure that he had plenty of scholarship money, and then a salary. He willingly spent most summers working for Ed. But, this would be his last summer. He was almost 19 and with his third PhD in Engineering almost done, it was time to find a direction. Ed Deline had already chosen Danny McCoy as his successor and Spencer really had no reason to stay in Las Vegas, except for - his mother. It had been a hard, and lonely decision to have his mother committed as soon as he'd turned 18, a bare seven months ago.

She'd wept, then screamed at him. It took weeks before the drugs began to effect her, and then she was a pale, listless copy of herself. He found it harder and harder to see her, though he wrote to her daily. He wanted - something...


	3. Chapter 3

Daniel traced the faint lines of the inscriptions that were etched into the shallow depression that really couldn't be called a cave. JP had said that they had been there a long time, many generations and that the ones who put them there had 'come with the moon'. The root beer had washed away the extra dust and then he'd rubbed in crushed Cheetos to make them more pronounced. He thought he'd seen similar symbols in Egypt, but they were so worn...

Blair was having better luck with JP. Both sat crosslegged on top of the Looking Rock. JP pointed out an eagle in the distance.

"I can see every feather on his head. His eyes look into mine." JP took a swig of root beer out of the bottle. "I can smell and taste every ingredient in this stuff." He paused, "Can't stand Coke, their secret ingredient..." A rare grin creased his face. "Could make a fortune off that, eh?"

"Sight, smell, and taste are enhanced?" Blair tried to bounce on crossed legs and only caused ankle pain.

"Yup. But I ain't a guardian," the Indian added sadly, "We haven't had one in the tribe for three generations. Might be the world so civilized now, don't need us."

Daniel joined them brushing Cheeto dust off his hands and shaking his head. "The images are tempting, but so worn..." He joined them with his hands loose over his knees.

"I will tell you a story passed down from my father, and his father, and ... heck long time ago."

_In the beginning the world was covered with darkness. There was no sun, no day. The perpetual night had no moon or stars._

_There were, however, all manner of beasts and birds. Among the beasts were many hideous, nameless monsters, as well as dragons, lions, tigers, wolves, foxes, beavers, rabbits, squirrels, rats, mice, and all manner of creeping things such as lizards and serpents. Mankind could not prosper under such conditions, for the beasts and serpents destroyed all human offspring._

_All creatures had the power of speech and were gifted with reason._

_There were two tribes of creatures: the birds or the feathered tribe and the beasts. The former were organized wider their chief, the eagle._

_These tribes often held councils, and the birds wanted light admitted. This the beasts repeatedly refused to do. Finally the birds made war against the beasts._

_The beasts were armed with clubs, but the eagle had taught his tribe to use bows and arrows. The serpents were so wise that they could not all be killed. One took refuge in a perpendicular cliff of a mountain in Arizona, and his eyes (changed into a brilliant stone) may be see in that rock to this day. The bears, when killed, would each be changed into several other bears, so that the more bears the feathered tribe killed, the more there were. The dragon could not be killed, either, for he was covered with four coats of horny scales, and the arrows would not penetrate these. One of the most hideous, vile monsters (nameless) was proof against arrows, so the eagle flew high up in the air with a round, white stone, and let it fall on this monster's head, killing him instantly. This was such a good service that the stone was called sacred. They fought for many days, but at last the birds won the victory._

_After this war was over, although some evil beasts remained, the birds were able to control the councils, and light was admitted, Then mankind could live and prosper. The eagle was chief in this good fight: therefore, his feathers were worn by man as emblems of wisdom, justice, and power._

_**(Compiled and edited by Kathy Weiser/Legends of America, updated February, 2010.**_

_**Excerpt from Geronimo: His Own Story as told by Geronimo to S. M. Barrett in 1905. Original book published in 1906, now in the public domain.)**_

Charlie Eppes was a good son, but he tended to fall apart when anything happened to his mother. When she had her 'female problems' it had been difficult for him. It had been difficult for the whole family, but Margaret Eppes understood her son. Even Alan was a pain in the butt, trying to wrap her in cotton wool. Speaking of pain in her butt, Margaret felt again the insidious pain that had been bothering her the last couple days. Too much driving. Well, they were almost in California, one more day or two, unless Charlie needed to stop and see a two-headed goat - again.

They had just passed through Bullhead and a garish sign up ahead announced the Dew Drop Inn.

"How about a pit stop?" Margaret smiled at Charlie who had his feet propped on the dash and was immersed in a book that weighed more than Charlie did. At least he had on socks, he'd sunburnt the bottom of his feet in Oklahoma from propping his feet on the dash, a lesson well learned.

"Great!"

Margaret smiled, put a little food in front of him and he was all growing teenager.

"Do you think they'll have fries?" He'd just eaten lunch a couple hours ago, but a guy could eat, especially after reading a book recommended by Dr. Fleinhardt.

Charlie scarfed down a plate full of fries, a large soda, and half of his mother's sandwich.

"I'm going to stretch my legs, before we go." Margaret said and got up with a creak and a supressed groan. "You might want to visit..." she nodded towards the restrooms.

Charlie stuffed the last of the fries in his mouth and bounced to his feet.

When he came out of the bathroom drying his hands on his jeans, there was some kind of shouting and hubbub outside. He contemplated buying a chocolate bar on the way out, but the cashier was busily on the phone. "C-can you send an ambulance to the Dew Drop Inn? Highway 15? No, we are on the Nevada side of the border. What do you mean I need to call for a Nevada ambulance...oh all right."

Charlie shrugged and went outside. A crowd of people were standing in the parking lot, staring at someone who was on the ground moaning.

"MOM!" Charlie pushed his way to kneel at his mother's side. "What happened? What's wrong? Mom?"

"Silly...me...I tripped and ... don't worry... I'll just lie here for a moment." Margaret Eppes patted her son's hand.

It seemed like forever for the ambulance to arrive. Well meaning bystanders suggested moving his mother, but she screamed when they tried to lift her. Charlie felt all the blood leave his face and would have fainted if he hadn't been sitting on the ground next to his mother. His mother...never had he heard such a sound from her. It was terrifying.

"Here, let me in." An authoritative voice hushed the nervous gossiping of the people standing around the stricken woman and the teenager. "I'm an army medic." As he crouched over a very pale and shivering Margaret two other men in uniform began shooing away the bystanders.

"Your mother, son?" the large blond man said and expertly began running his hands over his mother's body for injuries. In a sort of abstract way Charlie noticed the tan uniform shirt and the patch on his right shoulder that said Rangers on it.

"Ma'am?" the man prompted his mother to open her eyes.

"M-margaret..." she whispered. "Charlie..."

"Here Mom." Charley leaned over into her line of vision.

"Can't say for sure, ma'am, Margaret, but looks like a broken hip to me. You also have a pretty good knock on the head from the fall."

"Here's a blanket." One of the other men handed the medic a blanket. "I suspect you're feeling a bit chilled. A smile came to his mouth, though his ice blue eyes remained serious. "Sarris!" he raised his voice. "Another one for the kid."

"I'm 19, and it is 104.9 in the sun." He protested, but felt at the same time a cold shiver go over him. "I should call an ambulance."

"Already been done." The tall man shifted so that his shadow fell over Margaret Eppes face. Another uniformed hand put a large coke into Charlie's hand. "Here drink this, the sugar will do you good."

"Shock." Charlie guessed.

"Good. You must have been a boy scout." The man praised Charlie and took up Margaret Eppes hand to take a pulse.

"Cub, too young for boy scouts." Don got to go to scouts in high school, but not Charlie. If it wasn't for the camping he would have hated it."

The man shook his head in confusion. How old did the kid say he was? Nineteen? The faint sound of a siren's wail caught the army medic's ear. "Here comes the calvary."

The blond man pulled Charlie to his feet and kept a steadying hand on him while delivering a succint report to the ambulance men. They confirmed his suspicions and with the other two soldier they had Margaret Eppes immobilized in a vacuum cast for her whole body.

"You can follow us in your car to Las Vegas General Hospital." The paramedic slammed the ambulance door practically in Charlie's face."

"Are you okay to drive?" Charlie focused his sight on the tall soldier.

"No. I don't have a license."

"C'mon Ellison! Vegas is waiting for us!" The other two soldier were already in a dusty Camaro.

"Ah shit." Ellison muttered. "I'm driving the kid in. Meet me at the hospital, will ya?" He raised his voice and waved to the others who shrugged and drove off in a cloud of dust.

"Do you have a key, or do we have to hotwire it?" He asked sarcastically.

Charlie produced a key from a magnetic box under the front bumper. He looked suspiciously at the tall man, he had helped him after all, but all the warnings from his parents and older brother about getting into cars with strange men...

"Look, I'm Captain James Ellison, U.S. Army Ranger. I am a good guy and I will deliver you right to the hospital, okay?" Captain Ellison began to check and tighten the ropes that held the precious blackboard in place. He retied some of the knots as Charlie got himself into the car and began to compose himself from the shock and the seemingly slow and at the same time swiftly moving events. He'd have to discuss the entropy effect with Fleinhardt. He took a shaky breath as Ellison got into the car.

"Okay?"

"Yes. My Mom, do you think, she'll be all right?"

"Probably. Won't lie to you though, probably hurts a lot. Seen guys with the same injuries cry like a baby, your Mom toughed it out pretty good."

Charlie nodded somberly and began to nervously play with a rubic cube that was sitting on the dash. Within half a minute he had it solved and tossed it unhappily on top of the dashboard again. Ellison spared the road a half glance and frowned. He noticed that the car had all the signs of a long road trip, used cups and wrappers in the garbage bag, bottles of water readily available, and tourist clutter on the dashboard.

Charlie picked up a heavy book off the seat and began riffling through the pages and then sighed and closed it again.

"Pretty hefty book. You in college?"

"Graduated three years ago." Charlie said quietly. "This is all my fault. I couldn't give up the blackboard."

"Is that what is strapped to the roof?"

"Dr. Nash gave it to me. I recieved the Milton Prize for my theoretical work in convergence which concerned asymptotics of Hermitian random matrices. I just finished my second PhD."

Ellison whistled. "You must be pretty smart. Smart enough to know that your Mom falling and hurting herself was not your fault. Right?"

"Yes sir. How long will it take to get to the hospital?"

"About twenty minutes. Hang in there, kid."


	4. Chapter 4

Daniel and Blair had pretty much concluded their research at the Apache reservation and had decided to hitch hike to Las Vegas. They half convinced themselves that the Nevada State University had a fairly good library on Indian legends, and that the town itself was an interesting 'phenomena', from an academic point of view, of course, since neither one of them was old enough to gamble or get into the casinos.

Hitchhiking saved money. Money could be used for other things. They both had let their beards grow, or at least Blair had a pretty good growth on his chin after a day or two, Daniel's beard tended to come in little whispy growths of blond hair, but he had a fair moustache after a week. They both agreed that they looked older, maybe even 21 older.

JP gave them a ride to the main road and from there they got a ride about halfway to Vegas, and from then on their luck deteriorated. The few cars that passed them didn't even slow for two young scruffy men with backpacks. They spent two hours walking down the dusty road discussing important issues.

"So, how come a talking mouse can own a dog that doesn't talk?" Daniel asked. This discussion had started with the sighting of a roadrunner, which led to Wiley Coyote, and then on to other cartoon characters.

"The real question is that of ownership of one animal by another." Blair opined.

"Are you questioning the humanity of the animal or the animalism of humanity?" Daniel countered.

The conversation would have continued indefinitely if a dusty pickup hadn't passed them and them stopped and backed up.

"You fellers lookin' to go to Vegas?" A scruffy guy with a matchstick in his mouth leaned out the passenger side of the window.

"That's right." Daniel volunteered. The gun rack in the back was none too reassuring, and neither was the passenger and driver, but this was the first ride they had been offered in an hour.

"Jest sling yur bags in the back, we be a bit crowded, but taint a problem fer two more to fit in." The driver added and spat professionally out of the rolled down window. He grinned showing a mouthful of tobacco stained teeth.

Daniel and Blair looked at each other, despite wanting a ride, they weren't fools.

"Okay if we sit in the back?" Blair pointed to the bed of the pickup.

The passenger of the truck looked at the driver and shrugged. "Shore boys, hop in."

Daniel and Blair tossed their backpacks into the truck. Daniel put one hand on the side of the truck and the driver raced the motor and the truck gave a lurch forwards.

"Sorry boys, the clutch slipped." the driver laughed. But when Daniel put his hand on the truck it lurched forwards again. The two men laughed.

"Oohh crap." Blair said under his breath. He then plastered a big grin on his face and raised his hands in mock surrender. Daniel put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels and turned his head casually as if admiring the dusty road. "They have our bags." He said with his head turned from the truck.

"Yes. And we got to get them back." Blair smiled and said through his teeth, not breaking his smile. He got as far as a light hand on the back of the pick-up. "Wow. You guys got us all right. Hey! When we get to Vegas let us buy you a beer." He grinned infectiously.

Mr. Scruff grinned back, only his grin revealed broken dirty teeth and he had an evil glint in his eye. "That's kind of you boys. But I'm guessin' you are too young to be buyin' beers. So, me and Clint here 'll just take care of your money for you."

"Look man, take the money, but leave us our backpacks. We got important study notes and...clean socks."

Daniel was edging closer to the truck and his hand was just inches from his precious backpack when the driver hit the accelerator and the truck went weaving up the road with the occupants laughing uproariously.

Without thinking, Blair stooped and scooped up a rock and threw it. It flew with uncanny accuracy and broke one of the tail lights. The truck skidded to a halt and backed up with a squeal of rubber on asphalt. Daniel and Blair exchanged startled glances and then took off running.

"This...reminds...me...of...high school." Daniel panted.

"Get the geek...hammer the nerd..."Blair shot back.

"Heck no. Track and field."

"Summafabitch...!" The shout was accompanied by the sound of a shell being chambered into a shotgun. "Ya busted ma light!" Buckshot chased across the heels of the fleeing young men.

Blair dropped like a stone. Daniel skid to a halt and knelt next to his friend. Blood was welling up from his head and starting to cascade through his thick curly hair.

"You shot him! What did you do that for?" This was followed by a quick spate of Arabic that would have made a camel drop dead from sheer horror.

"What the..." Scruff exclaimed. "Gimme that gun, git their money. Quick!"

"Am...I ...dead?" whispered Blair.

"Almost...killed him!" Daniel exclaimed and leaned over Blair. "Quiet! "he hissed, "we are getting our stuff back."

"...kay..." Blair closed his eyes obediently. His head hurt. He'd been shot.

A backpack sailed over to where Daniel was crouched over Blair. He opened it and fished out a shirt (none too clean, but it would do) to staunch the flow of blood pouring into the dusty road and dribbling towards the desert.

A second backpack soon followed with papers drifting out of the top. Daniel scrambled to save the important research notes as Scruff and his buddy Triggerhappy hopped back into their truck and sped off into the heat haze.

"Well, we got our stuff back." Daniel said philosophically.

Blair sat up gingerly. "I got shot." He took the shirt from his head and then pressed it back on the still bleeding wound. "They could at least have driven me to a hospital." he whined a little, after all he got shot.

Daniel snorted and muttered some bad language in ancient Sumerian that would wither a cactus. He slung both backpacks on his shoulder and hauled Blair to his feet.

"Whoa. Head rush." Blair panted, but stayed more or less upright with decided 30 degree list to the port side.

Daniel peered down the road. "Here comes a car. Stay here and flag it down." He then sprinted for the side of the road leaving Blair in the middle of the road still listing to port.

The purr of a powerful and well tuned engine announced the arrival of the pink Cadillac convertible circa 1963. The driver and her companion exchanged glances, slowed and eased the behemoth to the side of the road.

Listing, Blair staggered toward them "I've been shot," he said in a conversational tone and hung himself over the door of the car and smiled engagingly, which might have impressed the two hot chicks in the car if he hadn't been dripping blood on the white leather upholstery.

"So it seems." The dark haired driver had her hair in two pigtails, but the spiked dog collar and the spider tattoo on her neck screamed Goth. "You are bleeding on my car."

Blair staggered back a step and executed a bow which would have been gallant under other circumstances but only served to render him unconscious on the roadside.

"Blair, you idiot." Daniel exclaimed in disgust. "I said stop the car, not bleed on it."

The driver turned off the motor and stepped out of the car. She was dressed from head to toe in black, even her army boots were black. She stepped gingerly over Blair who was already peering up blearily from the ground.

"Hi!" She shook Daniels hand vigorously. "I'm Abby and that is Penelope." She pointed over her shoulder to her friend who was already cooing over the semi-conscious Blair.

Blair tried to focus on her face but was distracted by the soft pillowing breasts that were pouring out of her skimpy orange top which clashed with her dyed orange hair. All his wishes were granted when she pulled him to her ample bosum and patted him soothingly on his back. "Oh poor baby," she cooed.

"I've died and gone to heaven." Blair cooed back. "I should get shot everyday."

"Actually," Abby interrupted the saccharine scene. "The evidence suggests that you were not shot, but hit by a ricocheted rock, otherwise you would be dead."

"How can you be so sure?" Daniel asked.

"We study..." Abby started to say.

"We are HomeEc majors." Penelope cut in brightly peering at Daniel through rhinestone studded glasses.

Abby glanced at Penelope uncertainly and then continued brightly, "You wouldn't believe what we have to study these days."

"We have to get this poor boy to a hospital." Penelope lifted him easily to his feet. She was easily three inches taller than him. "I'm wearing heels." she apologized.

"S'allright by me." Blair lisped into her two delightful assets. He was soon ensconced in the back seat with the delightful Penelope.

Daniel sat in the front seat next to Abby. The backpacks were safely stowed under his feet, just in case these two Red Riding Hoods were really wolves.

"So, what are you boys doing out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"We are doing important research." Blair spoke up from the backseat.

"Yep, us guys are Forestry majors." Daniel deepened his voice a trifle to underline that he and Blair were adults.

"Ooo. Manly." Abby smiled. "And where is your flannel shirt?"

"It's in the backpack, of course." Daniel explained.

Abby glanced at the backpack and smiled, "Of course it is." She noticed the University of Illinois, Chicago sticker on the backpack, since when did they have a forestry department she wondered.

"Look." Abby pointed at a billboard saying 'Las Vegas Home of the Stars- Only 20 miles'.

"Uh huh." Daniel eyes jittered from the sign to the small parking sticker on the windscreen. Since when do HomeEc majors park at MIT?


End file.
